


Upstairs Downstairs

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: The Sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-21
Updated: 1999-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:02:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair and the distance between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upstairs Downstairs

I don't know when I noticed the actual difference.

Blair started showing up for breakfast smelling of semen and hand cream instead of semen and latex.

His usual swagger was still there, that rolling bouncing, walking on the balls of his feet type bounce kept constant, but the smell changed.

I guess I started listening for him shortly after. Yes, it was wrong. Yes, it was an invasion of privacy. Yes, I knew there was no way I couldn't do it. But it was just my luck I happened to catch him in a dry spell. For over a week, nothing from below. Sandburg was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and didn't wake up until his alarm.

So I was the one up in the middle of the night, trying desperately not to make noise as I fucked my fist as silently as possible. Every creak in the bed seemed to echo off the walls. My cheeks flushed at the thought of Sandburg hearing me, but even that was a turn-on. It was like being twelve again, praying that my father or brother didn't walk in...not yet...not quite yet...

And it was over. I'd wipe my hands off on a towel if I had one near or on a shirt already bound for the wash, and spend the rest of the night with the scent of my semen drying in the air.

Damn it.

###

I came downstairs about a week after the first time I consciously stayed awake trying to hear Blair jerk off, and saw the smile on his face as I walked past him to have a shower. I barely controlled myself not to make the sniff obvious, but he didn't smell any different.

"What is it, Sandburg?" I asked, keeping my voice sounding just slightly annoyed with him. I didn't want to spook him.

"Nothing," he said, going back to studiously stirring his eggs.

I left rather than let him see the flush to my cheeks. He had been asleep last night. I heard his breathing. There was no way possible he could have heard me. But he hadn't looked up from the eggs as I closed the bathroom door.

He had already had a shower; I could smell him in the air. As the water ran down my body I was almost tempted to use some of his conditioner to ease my hand, but he'd probably smell it on me without the Sentinel senses. And that would lead to questions I didn't feel like answering.

The toast popped up as I opened the door again. Blair glanced up at me, "Orange juice or coffee?" he asked.

"Coffee," I said, looking for the smug smile that wasn't there anymore. I shook it off as paranoia and continued with my day.

###

The worst part was trying not to listen in. The dark haired coffee shop girl leaned into his space so casually I almost wanted to go over there and yank him away. His laugh knotted my stomach, and when he leaned towards her I had to grip onto the table.

So I sat there, drinking my plain black coffee while they swapped entendres about the correct amount of head needed for the perfect cappuccino, and when Sandburg took his first sip, she wiped his lip herself.

When he came back to me, his eyes were shining, the bounce was back, and I was sure I'd smell the lingering latex on him the next morning. It never happened. It wasn't until I was in the truck that I realized he hadn't even asked for her phone number.

###

I don't deliberately do these things to myself. I sure as hell didn't want to notice how closely he kept the legal pad over his groin. When he wrote on the left-hand side of the page, the pad pressed down into him. It was turning him on, but other than his breathing slightly increasing and the slight flush, he gave no indication. He kept working on the floor, ignoring the news on television, and I had to shift on the couch, turning on my side so I didn't have to look at him.

It wasn't enough. Even the sound of his hair on his shoulders as he moved distracted me. "I'm going to bed," I announced, turning off the television.

Blair glanced down at his watch, but it was only nine thirty.

Being away from him helped. I could concentrate on my new Tom Clancy, but turned off my light and settled down to sleep. It didn't happen. I heard him getting ready for bed, opening the fridge to pour himself something. He didn't put his glass away before going to brush his teeth. I tried not to listen to him in the bathroom, and so almost didn't catch him moving to the base of the stairs. I froze, wanting him to think I was asleep, and was rewarded by him closing his door, shucking off his clothes, and laying down over the covers on his bed.

For a long moment, Blair just lay there, and I was disappointed to think he was just trying to cool off. But the coffee girl must have been too much for him, because eventually he rolled over to dig through his bedside table. My mouth went dry as he squirted a very healthy amount onto his palm, and my cock almost pulsed. I reached down under the covers, wincing at the sound of my skin scraping against the sheet, but there was no way Blair could have heard it. I reached for my own cream, and lifted my knees up to tent the covers as Blair moaned softly under his breath. His voice caught, and his hands stopped moving against himself, but I kept perfectly still and he resumed to his stroking.

Thinking that the soft sigh hadn't woke me obviously made him braver, because his hand moved more quickly against his skin. I loved the sound of soft thuds as his fist hit his belly on the down strokes, and the muffled grunts as he tried to control the sounds but couldn't. His breath caught once, and then he kind of exhaled and sighed at the same time. The smell of him reached me slowly, and he wiped himself off before getting under the covers.

I had to come so badly that there was nothing pleasurable in my touch. The bed creaked a second before I came, but I was too far-gone to care. My come hit my chest, bringing with it the relief from agony if not actual pleasure, and the ringing in my ear kept me from hearing anything below. By the time the buzz cleared enough, Blair had already begun to snore.

I sighed as I wiped myself up.

The next day he looked more tired than usual, and he missed a spot shaving. At least it gave me something to fixate on that wasn't the slight scent of come still on his hands from the night before. It took a while to find the residual smell after the soap and other scents from his day, but I loved walking past him and catching the ghost of it.

###

The scent drove me crazy. Twice he put his hand on my desk and I had to stop myself from grabbing it, flipping it over, and licking his palm with my tongue. I went upstairs early again, and it took him a long time for him to go to bed. I heard him moving around downstairs, and my skin tingled with the need to jack off, and not even the Tom Clancy kept my attention from my cock. I reached down and slowly cupped myself over my jeans, and felt the straining response to the touch. The denim almost made it better as I ground the palm of my hand against myself once and then deliberately stopped myself. He was brushing his teeth, but I wanted him in bed before I started.

Finally the sound of the pages flipping ended, and his light clicked off. His breathing dropped lower, adding a soft whine to it on the exhale.

Like a teenager, I couldn't wait to undo my jeans. I couldn't remember the last time my hands shook just by myself. I dipped into the hand cream and thickly ran it down the entire length of my cock. The chill of it momentarily counteracted the deep ache coming from my balls, and I had to kick my jeans off to spread my legs comfortably. One hand slid under my thigh, and I teased myself by drumming my fingertips against my perineum.

My knees involuntarily jerked, and I almost lost it there. The bed creaked as I fought against coming by gently tugging on my testicles and I froze, convinced the entire block had heard it.

"Jim?" Blair whispered. My hearing was dialed up so high, I momentarily convinced myself he was standing beside my bed. "Go on, it's okay."

My heart continued to pound in my throat, but I could hear him shift in his blankets. A whisper of cloth, and I heard him sigh. I could concentrate enough to almost hear the caress of his skin on his own skin. His bed creaked as he shifted over to his bedside table, and a moment later I could smell the cream he was using. "Um...nice," he whispered.

I touched myself again, and that was enough to revive the flagging erection. Blair's hand worked the lotion into his skin, and he sighed again. "Wait!"

He spoke in a low voice, but it was enough to jar me, I had been so close to him. "Turn over," he whispered. "Use a pillow if you have to."

On one level, I knew nothing but the cool, clean sheets were under me, but on the other...the perversion of the whole situation appealed to me. I shifted over, hugging my pillow to my chin, and slowly ground my hips into the mattress. The bed creaked softly again, and Blair's soft laughter traveled the stairs. "That's it?" he asked, moving his hand against his cock. "Come on, Jim. Show me how much you want me."

I moved against the bed harder, face beet red from the strain and the embarrassment as the second creak followed the first. The soft sheet tickled my belly, caressing my cock, which felt so good to be trapped against my body. I reached out and braced myself against the corners of the mattress as I fucked harder, and Sandburg moved his hands to match the creaking. "Oh, god, Jim. Like that. Fuck...oh...man..." Blair whispered, and then dropped down to low, guttural moans.

It was too much for me. One quick thrust and I was coming all over the sheets. His harsh breath told me he was following suit, and we both just lay there stunned at what had just happened.

"Good night, Jim," Blair whispered, and wiped himself off before rolling onto his side to sleep. I had to spend the extra moment to change my sheets.

I went downstairs the next morning, almost afraid to meet Blair's eyes, but he was in the kitchen acting like nothing was wrong. I moved in behind him to take down the plates, and he even slid away from me. "I won't be in until later today. I've got to teach a friend's class."

"I'll wait for you," I said, amazed that I could sound so ordinary as well. It wasn't like we were denying it...whatever it was...but it had no place in our lives during the day.

"Great. See ya," he said, grabbing his books from the couch and was out the door.

This had to be the weirdest morning after conversation I had ever had, but even as I listened to him run down the stairs a part of me had to know if it was par for the Sandburg course.

The afternoon passed by slowly. Sandburg would glance at me, momentarily, and then suddenly be utterly engrossed with what he was doing when I looked back at him. When it was time to go home, he kept the conversation strictly to neutral topics, and wouldn't let me steer it away. It was frustrating, but the knot in my gut that traveled down to my testicles tightened.

I almost jumped when he suggested it was time for bed. "Goodnight, Jim," he said with finality just as I was about to suggest a shared bedroom. He went to bed, but I stayed downstairs for a while, watching the television without actually viewing it.

I climbed the stairs heavily, but should have known Sandburg had something planned. I don't know when he had time to throw the tube of lube on my bed, but he was sneaky enough to do it. "It took you long enough," Blair whispered as I sat down.

I creaked the bed to show I had heard, and heard his soft chuckle. "Lie down if you aren't already."

I wish he could hear me, but he could talk to me and I listened. It was enough. "Spread your legs, Jim. As wide as your comfortable with and then go for the extra inch."

His breathing had changed, becoming harsher, more turned on. He wasn't touching himself, or at least he wasn't jerking off. I heard nothing from him but his breathing. "Are you doing it, Jim? Does it pull your thigh muscles? Run your hands down your thighs for me, down the inner muscles. Are they tight? Does it hurt?"

I heard the first whisper of skin against denim. The bastard was wearing clothes to cut down on the sound he gave off. I groaned in frustration, but ran my hands down my legs again, feeling my cock swell against my belly without touching it.

"Did you find my present?" I reached for it without being told. "Lube up two fingers, Jim. No more. I'll be very upset if I find out you're using more."

The bed creaked again as I sat up to obey him, and he laughed again. There was no hiding the sounds of him furiously rubbing the front of his jeans. "Oh, Jim," he groaned, and his hand stopped. I thought he had come, but his breathing still hurt him. He was calming down then. I smiled at the sound of his zipper undoing. I smiled at that, wanting to give a shout of victory.

"Please tell me your legs are spread still. Reach between them and cup your balls, Jim. I know how big they are, but are they heavy? Can you see what colour they are? I bet they're dark. Dark and swollen," he said, and hissed, softly. He stopped touching himself. I swore I could hear his body shuddering. The soft moans were painful, and he stopped breathing. "Give me a sec," he whispered.

My own breathing halted until he took that next big breath. I didn't smell any difference in the air, and I wanted to ask him to finish it. I could wait, but he was young enough to recover more quickly. "Just your index finger. Work it into you, slowly. Relax. If it hurts stop. Bear down on it, let your body open."

I was so ready I probably could have taken both fingers, but followed his orders. "Are you tight? Hot? Do you want that second finger in you? Slide it in if you're ready. Fuck yourself, Jim, let me hear it."

I deliberately made more noise than I ever had in my life, but it felt great to breathe and not have to worry about the sounds. The bed took a beating as well, and I heard him shout half way through.

I loved the smell of our scents mixing, even if it did come from two different rooms.

The next morning he was back to his deny everything stage. I opened my mouth to say something, but he walked to the door. "Sandburg?" I asked.

"We're going out for breakfast."

IHOP. Small children. No heart-to-heart. I wasn't fucking a sadist.

###

It was my turn. The next night I didn't go to bed when he did, and he delayed for as long as he could. I heard him turn restlessly in his bed until two, and then I went upstairs. I stripped down and actually got into the covers before he spoke.

"Are you angry with me?" he said, normally. His voice was curious, nothing more.

I creaked the bed as I rolled onto my side. Let him interpret that how he may.

"You're angry with me," he said, and rolled over himself.

He wasn't fooling me into believing he was asleep.

I wasn't fooling myself.

###

The next day I snapped at him for jumping in with a witness. It wasn't my place. They were talking about computers and I knew I knew nothing about firewalls and port settings, but he had jumped over the end of my sentence. I clicked my pen shut, thanked the witness with a terse smile, and left him behind.

He had to run to catch up. "What gives?"

"How many times have I asked you not to interrupt me?"

"Including this time? Once."

"Don't do it again."

"No, sir," Sandburg snapped, mock saluting me. "Anything else, sir?"

"Why won't you come up?"

"Not now, Jim."

"Yes, now," I turned on him. The parking lot wasn't deserted, but there were people around. "Why do you play this game?"

"Last time we played you weren't complaining loud enough for me to hear you."

"So that's it, then? That's your idea of a relationship?"

"What do you want from me?" Sandburg asked. His face was open, honest...and only slightly afraid. "Could you touch me? Could you handle touching me? Think about it, Jim. Think about what it means to want to touch me."

I looked him over again. His body trembled slightly, but that could have been the sudden blast of cool air. It brought his scent to me; he was aroused. For a heartbeat I realized what he was asking me, what it meant to me, to my career, to what I thought I was.

And in the next heartbeat I realized I didn't care. I backed him up against the truck, pinning him there with my body, but he put his hand on my chest and pushed me away. "Not here," he said, quietly.

"Blair--"

"Not here," he said, going around to the other side of the truck.

Not here. And not at the bullpen. And not over dinner. Finally he moved to the couch, sitting on the arm of it while I sat down next to him, but the television remained off. I reached for him, but he slid away from me and moved to the stove, kneeling down to start a fire. It took a second to catch, and as I moved to him again, he stood up again and went into his room.

He was nervous.

The thought made me smile. For all his airs, he was shit scared to do this. He brought back his blankets, and spread it on the floor in front of the fire. I stood up and brought back a couple beer, stretching out. Blair hovered over me. I rolled on my back and looked up at him.

"Are you going to watch or do you want an actual role?"

Blair took a step back, "I uh..." he blushed, crimson. "I've never done this before," he said, needlessly.

I reached up and took his hand. He didn't fight it as I brought him down to my level. I took off his flannel shirt, tugging at T-shirt. His nipples hardened as they were suddenly exposed to the air, and he lay back and closed his eyes. I left him long enough to grab a pillow for his head, and he relaxed, sighing as I kissed his nipple, playing my tongue over it, and he sighed, rubbing his head against the pillow.

I reached for the beer, twisting off the cap. "Open your mouth," I said.

For once he was perfectly willing to take orders. I poured him a mouthful and he swallowed, not even opening his eyes, and I was kind enough to wait for him to swallow before pouring most of the bottle over him. "I have to sleep on this!" he said, but didn't try to sit up.

"Not anymore," I said, licking his skin. His body warmed the beer up almost immediately, but his added flavour more than made up for it. He shivered, lifting his arms up over his head so I could work my tongue over the beer that had escaped down his side. I worked lower, teasing the line of his stomach, over his abs, and then down to tease his belly.

"How long have you wanted to do this?" Blair asked, and then gasped as I touched him through his jeans. "Or that?"

"Since you didn't ask for the coffee-girl's phone number," I said, going back to working the last drops of beer off him.

I tugged at his jeans, and Blair's eyes opened. "Oh, no," he said, sitting up. He tugged on my own shirt. "This, off. Now."

"We played your way. Now it's my turn," I said, but unbuttoned my shirt. Sandburg sat up on his elbows to watch. His knee came up, letting his erection poke uncomfortably against his jeans. I pulled off my shirt, not bothering to unbutton it all the way, and he tackled me while it was over my head. I yanked the shirt off, feeling one of the buttons pop off, but he was over my centre of gravity, peering down at me.

I reached up and touched his curls, letting the silkiness play between my fingers. "You taste like you smell," I said.

He cocked his head, and grabbed my wrists, pinning them over my head. I let him do it, not wanting to turn this into a battle of strength. He slid down me, stretching out, and then lowered his forehead down to my sternum. He inhaled deeply, running his tongue down the middle of my chest. "I've wanted to do that forever," he confessed, looking at me. His eyes shone.

He let go of me cautiously, but I wasn't about to stop him from undoing his jeans. He shifted off me and unzipped me, taking the time to pull them all the way off instead of down. He cracked open a vial, and the warm scent of almonds escaped. I pulled him down to me, and we kissed for the first time.

It wasn't like kissing a woman. The stubble was enough to remind me of that. He probed me as much as I pushed into him, and his mouth tasted of the shared beer. He opened himself up, using one hand to press inside. I felt him wince, once, and then totally relax to it. His second hand dribbled the oil onto my cock, working it into my skin. Between the oil, his hand and the friction, I almost lost it.

Nothing had ever been that tight against my cock, nothing. He lowered himself down carefully, face twisted in almost pain, but when he gasped, a slow moan followed, letting him rest against my body. "Oh, Jim," he whispered, slowly moving his hips against me. "Jim...oh..."

I trusted him not to hurt himself, and had to knot my fingers to keep from forcing him to move faster. He threw his head back, running his nails up my chest. It hurt enough to distract from the rest of the sensations, so I took his hands in mine. His fingers looked so good between mine. I pulled him forward, so I could suck on them. He jumped when he felt my mouth around his index finger, but took the hint. He started fucking my mouth with his two fingers, racking their undersides with my teeth. I looked up and saw the shine in his eye, and let go of his other hand.

He reached down his belly, slowly, taking his own cock in his hand. His excitement smelled much better when mixed with mine at the source. "Jim!" he gasped, rocking back to take me all in. I couldn't stop myself from grabbing his hips, forcing him over me. Onto me. He gasped again, slamming back against me once, and I was gone, coming deep inside him.

Blair's first string of cum caught me on the chest. He tensed, clamping down on my cock hard enough to really hurt, and then he collapsed down over me, heart pumping. I held him till he calmed down, and then kissed him until he woke up again. "I wondered about that," he said, not moving to get off me.

"Wondered about what?"

"Whether it would be better to sleep over you or under you," he moved against me, carefully, lapping at his own come on my chest. I ran a finger through it and tasted it. Definitely Blair.

"And you decided--?" I tried to prompt.

Blair only laughed. "I decided I'm going to need far more testing."

I could live with that.

The End


End file.
